Infinitude Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

The crisp breeze
Landed on the brambly foliage
And the canines strayed too far away
From their kennels and moored
Their soft, lithe bodies to the Harlequin.
The stark, terse cacophony of sounds
Made from the time of passing cars
Were abrupt upon my ears –
And so the breeze landed
On the transmuted pebbles of impassive distraught,
As if placed one by one by some omnipotent nimble
Of trifle deceit and morose shamble.
The Sun was out and farce,
The vicissitude was out but scarce,
And I could only pray for that day
Worth vying for – it will not be augured into vanity,
It will be taken care of very well,
As one would take care of a kin,
Or as one would restore the grotesquerie of some
Immaculate establishment.
Perversely moonlit are the shadows,
And I am perched atop the bed –
And I grazed at the finite picture handed over,
Girdled by the Earth outside the window,
And I jumped out of the window,
And hovered back again to my room
As it started to rain –
And how somber: I see myself asleep
In the rain sometimes, shivering and coiling
Like how one faces eternity’s gate.
And now the erstwhile woebegone structure
That I used to halter within myself
Have now been effaced –
Though it made teeth marks,
Scars and slowly mending fractured bones,
All this will evanesce – into the effervescent night,
And I am left with a plenitude
Of sunrises and sea verdures –
And one can never measure with great fathoms,
The infinitude that my soul relishes.